


Just When I Was Going Out

by saekhwa



Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Black Character(s), Break Up, F/M, Het and Slash, Inspired by Poetry, Interracial Relationship, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Movie(s), Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fill, Queer Het, Recovery, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:22:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7901260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/saekhwa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the stunt Waller had pulled, Rick knew it was never as simple as doing a job anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just When I Was Going Out

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [poetry fiction's prompt from a poem by Pablo Neruda](http://poetry-fiction-challenge.tumblr.com/tagged/july-mini-prompts):  
> "I greeted it with a doubtful laugh  
> distrusting its identity."

Pulling June from the bathtub—holding her as she shivered, her cold, clammy hand fisted in his tac vest, her face buried against his neck—paralleled pulling June up from the street after she ripped off the muddy remnants of Enchantress.

Point and counterpoint to her whispering, "Help me," and then, "Thank you." Her kisses filled with desperate relief.

Those first few days that followed, Rick watched her walk around, taking small steps, advancing slowly from room to room as she dragged her hands along the walls like it'd all vanish if she blinked.

The first time he caught her whispering, "Enchantress," she was sitting in the middle of the bed, hunched in on herself, eyes squeezed shut and her knees hugged to her chest. He'd pulled his gun, aimed, and tried telling himself that old habits died hard.

She never opened her eyes to see the gun. She'd just held her breath. It only took a second for Rick to know. He lowered his sidearm and holstered it as she shook herself loose with a long, slow exhale and a few quiet tears. 

He went to her. The moment he set a knee on the bed, she dropped her arms and leaned in for his hug. He squeezed her tight so she couldn't help but feel her body and know she was in control of it. He couldn't figure out another way to convince them both that it was all over.

When she pulled back, she scrubbed the heel of her palms against her cheeks to dash away her tears, and then she laughed, the sound of it barely a huff of air.

"Thank you," she said, cupping his cheek. She didn't lean in for the kiss that he'd been expecting. She searched his face a moment, stroking his skin with her thumb, and then she excused herself and went to the bathroom.

He stood when she shut the door and stood by it, shutting his eyes so he could focus. He heard the water running, just from the sink, the sound dulled when she put her hands beneath it. At the forefront, it would've been easy to say he wanted to make sure June was okay, but Rick hadn't ever lived his life by easy. He stood by the door, waiting to hear the chitter of the shadows. Enchantress had tricked them once, and even though Rick still felt the burn of crushing her heart in his fingers, he didn't want to be fooled twice.

Fifteen minutes later, June opened the door. She gasped, starting so badly that she pressed a hand to her chest, her eyes wide as she stared at him. "I… Didn't expect to see you there."

Rick smiled and nodded behind her. "I need the bathroom, too."

She exhaled, shoulders dropping, and nodded as she reached out to squeeze his arm. "Yeah. Of course." Then she walked past him.

He turned, watching her go to the bed and fluff up the pillows, shoving two more under the two she already had.

He stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He looked at the tub first. Looked like clean, white porcelain, so he moved closer and examined the curtains. When that checked out, he turned to look at the sink and then the window, searching out any stray remnant of shadow or mud or black leaves.

It was all an excuse, though. Rick knew what was really coming, and it wasn't Enchantress. It was normalcy.

~*~

By week three, June could walk through a room without hunching her shoulders up around her ears. By week five, she stopped sitting and standing as close to a light source as possible. By week six, she only needed a thin shaft of light from the bathroom to be able to fall asleep.

Week nine, she looked at Rick when he came to visit her and said, "I'm free."

She still looked wounded. He doubted that haunted look in her dark eyes would ever go away, but she held that word—free—like a prayer, something that could be true if she believed strongly enough in it. 

"I'm really free. From all of it," she said, and Rick wrapped his hands around her thin wrists and offered up a smile and a nod

"You're free," he said, because one of them needed to make it out. 

~*~

He woke up to June whimpering. The shadows weren't thicker around her, he reminded himself, but shook his head to clear the sleepy fog over his brain. He grabbed hold of June's shoulders, squeezing down gently as he said, "June." He said it again for good measure. 

She lashed out, her knuckles hitting his jaw. It was more of a graze than a full on assault. She whimpered again, from the dream or the pain of scratching herself, Rick couldn't tell. He debated pinning her down but instead shook her harder. 

"June, damn it, wake up. It's okay. It's a dream. Wake up."

When she finally opened her eyes, for a second, Rick thought he saw a glimmer in them, the shine of the supernatural. Holding magic like that, some of it must stick around, right? It was bound to change a person. All he'd done was crush Enchantress' heart, but he still felt a burning itch in his hands and sometimes thought he could see slivers of black pooling in the lines of his palms. Just more to add to his pile of nightmares, like the one June suffered from. 

Rick said her name again, shaking her until she bolted up, flinging her arms around his neck and shaking as she cried. The words were muffled against his shoulder, at first, but once she quieted down, he heard, "I'm me. I'm me. I'm June. June Moone."

He rubbed her back but didn't have any words to offer up. None of it was ever going to be enough.

~*~

He stepped into Waller's office and knew today was the day. 

"We're cutting her loose," Waller said. She didn't even look up from her laptop, and Rick didn't shift from parade rest. He'd been waiting for this command for a while, only aware of it now that it'd happened. 

Maybe it was his silence or maybe it was just Waller and that ever-watchful eye of hers. Either way, she looked up from her laptop. 

"Say your goodbyes." 

Rick didn't think she'd have the decency, but maybe the closure was supposed to seal the wound better. He didn't know, but he cared. He owed it to June. 

"When you're done," Waller said, "I have a new assignment for you."

~*~

When Rick told June the news, she gasped, eyes wide. Then she smiled. God. Her smile. The first real, genuine smile she'd had since… Rick had never seen her smile like this. Since they'd met, it was always tight-lipped and frail, not this pure joy of having her freedom. 

"Oh, Rick." 

He could tell by the way she rushed forward those first few steps that she was about to run into his arms. Then she stopped. Watching her smile fade made Rick's go brittle, too. She took those last few steps slow, reaching out, but Rick didn't meet her halfway. She took his hand anyway. 

"Come with me." She squeezed, and Rick looked down at his hand in hers. She cupped his cheek, drawing his attention back to her face. "She doesn't have anything on you anymore. We can build a life, a _real_ life. 

They'd had one, Rick wanted to say. He kept a lid on it, along with the knowledge that Waller always had something up her sleeve. He also had a couple of excuses about duty to his country, to his beliefs. Maybe June was free, but there was the rest of them—Floyd, Harley. Waller's Suicide Squad. Name ended up sticking. 

But at the core of it, Waller had been right. These threats weren't going away because Superman was dead. 

The only thing he could say was, "I'm sorry."

He kissed her goodbye, and then she kissed him. It felt like a last ditch effort. Rick didn't dissect it. All he knew was that he wanted to hold onto her for as long as he could as she told him, "Walk away from it. Give up this job."

But he couldn't. 

~*~

Rick damn near raised his hand to rub away the headache forming at his temple. He kept his hands at his sides, but his eye twitched as he said, "Floyd Lawton." He stared at Waller but couldn't understand her any more than he could before. "You're going to give him what he wants?"

"No," Waller said. "I'm getting what I want, and you're going to supervise."

Besides the fact that Rick wasn't a babysitter, he thought it best to remind Waller, even though he doubted she'd forgotten. "I destroyed their controls once. You really going to trust me with them a second time?"

Waller answered with a slim smile, and Rick noticed her phone, because the screen flashed. She hadn't touched it, and it was probably just notifying Waller of a text message or email, but… He got the gist. 

She still reiterated, "Do your job, Flag."

"Yes, sir," was a well-honed reaction. Rick frowned after he'd said it and showed himself out like it could hide the bitter taste in his mouth. 

~*~

As Rick headed out to Belle Reve with a five-man crew, he thought about this: Going to the bar and asking Harley to pour him a shot. How they'd all stared at him like the sucker he'd been. They'd stood up for something anyway, and he'd destroyed the remote detonator so they could run away from the chaos, if they survived. 

What held stark in Rick's mind was hugging Floyd after he'd made that shot. He remembered that joy of victory. Their impossible success had… It had given him a lot to think about, so of course he hadn't detained any of them. 

When Waller had called up her people and shipped them all back to their cages, Rick remembered the look in their eyes, the way they stared at him like another guard, like business as usual, and there hadn't been a damn thing Rick could do to stop it. 

He didn't have much pull, but he had a few strings he could tug. First being to get them a security team that would at least remember they were human beings. When the security team appeared, fully suited and booted, Rick didn't recognize any of them least of all Taylor, who looked him up and down and then said, "Waller told me you were coming."

She marched him down to Floyd's cell and handed him the key. Then she took three steps back and raised her weapon. Her eight guards followed suit. Rick didn't have a single doubt that they didn't give a shit that he was in the line of fire. 

"Floyd," he said, "I'm opening the door. Stand down."

"Flag? That really you?"

"Yeah." 

Rick inhaled a breath and opened the cell door wide. He noticed Floyd, sweating and shirtless, fists raised in the air. When the guards didn't advance, Floyd lowered his arms and looked at Rick with a smirk. 

"You miss me that much, huh?"

Rick frowned on principle as he glanced at the punching bag, high grade, and noticed the upgrade to Floyd's mattress, too. Apparently, Floyd, at least, had gotten a few upgrades, but Rick suspected that held true for Harley and Waylon, too. 

"Come on," he told Floyd as he made an about-face. "We're going to see your daughter."

~*~

Mom kicked up a shit storm. Rick didn't blame her. No one in their right mind would trust a kid with an incarcerated murderer-for-hire. It probably hadn't helped matters much that Rick didn't bother explaining what he was or wasn't trying to do. He had two of his men escort her from the apartment and connected her to Waller, though he doubted Waller would answer. 

With mom at least secured in the vehicle, Rick turned to see Zoe running straight into Floyd's arms. Floyd caught her and swung her around, like something out of a Target commercial. He even kissed her cheek before setting her back on the ground. 

Rick looked left to wait it out but watched them from out of the corners of his eyes. When they walked hand in hand back into the building, Rick motioned for his men to stay and followed them up alone. 

At the door, Zoe looked at Rick as she asked, "Is mom okay? How long will you get to stay?" The questions were obviously for Floyd, so Rick stepped back to try and minimize his presence. 

Floyd caught her attention with a simple, "Hey," and grasped her chin. Hadn't been necessary, though. She'd looked at him the moment he'd spoken. "Ignore him, okay? Your mom'll be fine. I'm here right now, and we're going to make the most of it. Deal?"

Zoe frowned, gaze skirting toward Rick one last time, but then she looked at Floyd, nodded, and took his hand, leading him to the living room. First thing she did was take him to the couch to summarize a few of her favorite books and update him on current events, a variety of stuff she'd learned in school but also stuff she'd read about. When she may have tired herself out with talking, she rested her head on Floyd's shoulder and played one of her favorite movies. 

Rick didn't recognize it, but it was cute. 

He couldn't help but watch it, even as he tried to keep his distance, sitting in the kitchen, so he wouldn't lose sight of them. He still had a job to do and know this was probably one of Waller's tests before she sent any of them back out into the field. Knowing what he knew of Waller, Floyd probably wouldn't have another chance with his kid without her leveraging it against another world-ending event. 

For now, though, even Rick could sit and enjoy a cute kid's story about a fat robot sacrificing himself to save a kid. Or enjoy what he could of it, because the idea of sacrifice made him think of Chato. Rick had searched the records to see whether he'd been recovered—alive or dead. He found deceased all over Chato's digital footprint, but no body. It was stupid, but Rick held out hope. 

He snapped out of his thoughts when Floyd said, "I have my own team." 

Rick blinked and noticed the credits were still rolling. Zoe looked up at Floyd. "You do?"

He didn't expect Floyd to look back at him, to nod and say, "Me, him, a doctor, and a mutant. Tell her, Rick."

Rick shook his head and deadpanned, "That's classified."

Zoe laughed, and Rick—Well, he couldn't help but smile in the face of it as he looked at Floyd grinning back at him. It all made Rick pause 'til Floyd asked, "What do you want to do next?" And Rick had to remember those plans didn't include him. 

"Will you help me with my homework?" Zoe asked. 

"Sure, if that's what you want to do."

"I do."

Rick stood when it was obvious they were heading for the kitchen table that he was seated at. He didn't have too many options, so he stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall while Zoe got out her textbook—looked like math—and a notebook. 

They went through the chapter, Floyd exhibiting a patience that Rick didn't think he had in him, even though Rick had been proven wrong before. After all, Floyd could've shot all of them when Waller had decided to use live rounds as a test. Rick had argued against it, and much like she had when giving Rick this assignment, she'd pretty much told him to shut up and do his job. 

But after June, Rick didn't know what "job" meant when he knew now that he'd always weigh it against trying to guess Waller's plans. 

Watching Floyd spend time with his kid wasn't the most painful thing Rick'd had to endure as far as jobs went. Zoe was a bright girl, all the more extraordinary knowing she had full knowledge, awareness, and understanding of who her dad was and what he'd done to land him in custody. She'd stopped him from killing Batman. Rick had read the files, of course. He'd pored over each one to get the measure of each psychopath Waller had assembled. While Floyd wasn't the average, unhinged murdered that Belle Reve usually housed, he was a remorseless killer, and Zoe seemed surprisingly calm about the whole thing. Rick, too, now that he was thinking about it. 

He never saw it coming when she said, "So if you're up here, like in a building." How it was a perfect set-up for the gem that followed. "And you shoot a man down here on the street, that's how far the bullet actually goes?"

He coughed into his fist to hide his chuckle. Zoe didn't even look at him, but Floyd shot Rick a look that let him know he hadn't succeeded in hiding anything. Watching Floyd try to awkwardly recover from the burn was priceless. All-time favorite moments, Rick would say. 

Floyd stumbled over a, "Yeah," nodded, and then tried to get Zoe back on the hypotenuse and less on the murder. In it all, Rick heard their affection for each other. 

He wondered if this was what Floyd had seen when Enchantress had tried to bribe them with their dreams. 'Cause no matter what Floyd's psych eval and rap sheet said about him, or even what Floyd said about himself, anybody with an ounce of sense would know how much he loved his daughter. If he hadn't, Waller would've found another way to exploit him. 

Which led straight to an 'oh shit' moment for Rick as he stared between Zoe and Floyd, who was losing the homework assignment to sharing more information than a 13-year-old girl should know about trajectory and wind shear in relation to shooting someone. 

Waller had set Rick up, set everyone up, without any remorse or apologies. She had ruthless determination, harder than any soldier Rick had ever served with. She'd cut June loose, but here was Rick, wondering if this had been Waller's next play to keep him in line. 

He didn't know. He didn't fucking know. 

He hadn't been able to identify that moment with June either. 

The U.S. Marshals barging through the door without bothering to knock jarred Rick from contemplation to action. He straightened. Floyd looked up, and Rick recognized the calculation but also the resignation when Floyd glanced down at his daughter, who grabbed her dad's hand as she stared at the Marshals. 

Rick held up an arm to stop them from taking another step. The Marshal leading the charge stared at him, jaw set, but Rick had a harder stare and shifted away from the wall, taking that one step closer. The guy backed down but did it with a shake of his head and a huff of disgust. 

When Rick glanced back at the table at Floyd, they made eye contact. Rick nodded and couldn't escape the question now that it had formed. He couldn't outthink Waller, damn it. 

He looked off to the left as Floyd's explanations dwindled down to a brittle silence. Rick lowered his arm, and the Marshals stepped forward, shackling Floyd's wrists and ankles while Zoe watched. When they'd finished, she jumped up and ran to her dad, squeezing him in a tight hug. 

"I love you," she said, her face hidden against Floyd's shoulder. 

Floyd looked up at Rick, and Rick nodded, pushing the Marshals back to give him and Zoe a few more precious seconds of privacy. When Floyd stood, Rick stepped forward to take his elbow, giving it a short squeeze as he escorted Floyd out. 

Once he had Floyd in the car, he stepped back to shut the door, but Floyd reached out. "Yo, man." He held up his cuffed hands, and Rick glared at the Marshals and continued glaring until they holstered their weapons. 

He pivoted, using his own body to block the door as he asked, "What is it?"

The corner of Floyd's mouth tilted up, once again more of a smirk than a smile as he settled back in his seat. "You're gonna have to put the seatbelt on. Safety first."

Rick shook his head but leaned over Floyd to buckle him in. 

He had to admit, to himself at least, that maybe he was that easy to maneuver, because he visited Floyd the next day, dropping a box full of Zoe's letters at his feet. 

"These are yours," he said, and stepped back while Floyd opened the box and then crouched in the middle of the floor, digging in and pulling up a pile. 

Floyd's shoulders didn't shake. They went hard as the look in his eyes as he stared down at years and years worth of letters, filled with whatever Zoe had wanted to share. Rick swallowed and turned to leave Floyd alone. 

"Every day?" 

The question froze Rick. He expected a hell of a lot more venom in it, not a tired, hesitant hopefulness. Or maybe he was reading too much into this after spending a day with Floyd and the kid. 

He turned to face Floyd, to meet him eye to eye, and nodded. "Every day. Look at the dates. You'll see."

Floyd shook his head, looking down, clutching handfuls of letters in both fists. "I still want to shoot you. But." He looked up, leaving some of the letters in the box as he held up his fist. "Thank you for this, man."

Rick glanced at Floyd's fist and then at the box and then at Floyd's face. He stepped forward and bumped his fist against Floyd's and then grasped it, holding it for three solid seconds before letting go. 

"It was the least I could do."

"Yeah, you know," Floyd said, smirking again, "saving your life about eight times should get me a _little_ somethin'."

Rick answered with a smile of his own as he shook his head. "Not shooting me doesn't count as saving me."

"Yeah, it does."

Rick barked a laugh and shook his head again. "You know what? I'm not too worried. You missed once."

"Nah. We both know I never miss, Flag. I let that one go."

Rick nodded, humming as he folded his arms over his chest. "Ya missed."

Floyd laughed. Rick wasn't going to get twisted up about it, but he was glad they could laugh about something while they stood in a prison cell. "Oh, okay. I see you. Don't think I don't."

Rick nodded. "Look as long as you want to, Floyd. You still missed," he said, voice warm with an undercurrent of laughter, all the while aware that somewhere, Waller watched all of this. 

But that sure as hell hadn't stopped him before.


End file.
